The Great Sael Adventure 1
You ignore the wink as best you can and do not object when the Commodore offers to take them to Antarctica instead.
The Brigadier takes a swig of his whiskey which he somehow or other has obtained, and in a low, rumbly voice, replies "I don't believe I was repeating myself. *bear noises* We are going to Port O CAR-LOW-LOW-LOW-TUH."
The Commodore frowns and says, "No, we are going to Antarctica."
The Brigadier lunges from across the table and begins to strangle the Commodore.
You scream, and in doing so find yourself helpless to do anything else.
The dainty man (Baron) finds his jaw is dropped, but he is also unable to do anything (as his hands are dainty).
Your hands vaguely reach for one another, but the shock of the situation is too much to recover from so quickly.
Your fingers have just begun to touch when the Brigadier, having dispatched the Commodore with his bare hands before your very eyes, takes charge of the ship and proceeds to set sail for Port O CAR-LOW-LOW-LOW-TUH.
Realizing that the Commodore is lost and your hopes of going to Antarctica are dashed, you begin to spiral into a miasma of loneliness.
The Brigadier and dashingly handsome dainty Baron have no use for a lonely, spiraling wretch such as yourself, so they throw you overboard with neither ceremony nor solemnity.
You die alone and uncared-for in the sea, a few short miles from land, lonely as you've ever been.
The Brigadier takes a swig of his whiskey which he somehow or other has obtained, and in a low, rumbly voice, replies "I don't believe I was repeating myself. *bear noises* We are going to Port O CAR-LOW-LOW-LOW-TUH."
The Commodore frowns and says, "No, we are going to Antarctica."
The Brigadier lunges from across the table and begins to strangle the Commodore.
You scream, and in doing so find yourself helpless to do anything else.
The dainty man (Baron) finds his jaw is dropped, but he is also unable to do anything (as his hands are dainty).
Your hands vaguely reach for one another, but the shock of the situation is too much to recover from so quickly.
Your fingers have just begun to touch when the Brigadier, having dispatched the Commodore with his bare hands before your very eyes, takes charge of the ship and proceeds to set sail for Port O CAR-LOW-LOW-LOW-TUH.
Realizing that the Commodore is lost and your hopes of going to Antarctica are dashed, you begin to spiral into a miasma of loneliness.
The Brigadier and dashingly handsome dainty Baron have no use for a lonely, spiraling wretch such as yourself, so they throw you overboard with neither ceremony nor solemnity.
You die alone and uncared-for in the sea, a few short miles from land, lonely as you've ever been.
